Slipstream
by Cookie Master's Apprentice
Summary: Magic had not always been ignored. Instead, they've been hated.


**Slipstream**

"Hey, you!"

The figure by the lake did not move. This sent a pang of irritation racing through Godric Gryffindor's nerves. He did not like to be ignored by anyone. He was a _nobleman's son_, for goodness's sake! Nobody was supposed to ignore him, lest of all the servant boy of his father's. That was just so not right on so many levels he could not even begin to describe it. For a very brief moment Godric contemplated picking up a stone from nearby and toss it at the hunched figure, but the thought was banished before it was fully formed. He was not cruel.

Instead, he walked over to the lakeside and gave said figure a kick (and he would have you know that it was a very _gentle_ kick).

_This_ time the person did look up at him. The young nobleman was rewarded with a full-force glare from startling green eyes and an unfathomable rage behind them. It was so intense, in fact, that for a split second it cowed him. Then Gryffindor pride kicked in and he composed himself. "Well, what are you doing slacking off?" he asked arrogantly, hands on hips. Inwardly, he cringed and winced and beat himself over the head. As tactless an approach as any. But he figured his friend needed some semblance of normalcy for this.

"It is none of your concern," the servant boy next to him said, too quickly to be truthful, as he scrambled back onto his feet. Then as a second thought he added, "Sir", in a voice that would have gotten him in the stocks forever and a day had anyone else heard it. Maybe even a flogging. But Godric was different. Truly _noble_ men would not convict others of this kind of slip, especially given these circumstances.

The noble-boy took a quick stock of the child before him and his eyes softened. Shoulder-length hair that was usually well-combed and washed now hung listlessly. The normally impeccably clean forest green tunic was rumpled . The trousers too. The face looked worse: decimated with red-rimmed bloodshot eyes and skin so pale Godric thought would look more appropriate on a dead body. Thin lips were pressed tightly together until it gave the impression that it was not there at all.

At his look, however, something flared in the green eyes. Anger, hatred, rejection. "Don't you _dare_ pity me," the pale boy spat.

"Do I look like I pity you?" Godric retorted without thinking.

"Yes," Salazar answered flatly. His voice trembled at the end, but he quickly checked himself. "Yes, you are, and I do not need it." He took a deep breath. "I am flattered by your concern, sir, but I would much appreciate it if you would leave me alone."

"In your dream." Godric moved forward, and Salazar's face suddenly froze. There was a hiss in the grass beneath his feet, and instinctively he jerked back, his hand going to the sword at his side. The serpent on the grass, dark and threatening and coiled to strike, hissed again.

Godric fixed Salazar with a stare. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," the other boy said quietly. His heart was clearly not in the challenge. Godric could hear the lie vibrating in the two simple words and the sudden fragility _beneath_ it. And, really, it scared him lifeless. Salazar _wasn't_ supposed to be weak. He wasn't supposed to feel so breakable. He wasn't supposed to have to resort to physical violence to stop Godric dead in his tracks. What happened to the Salazar who could make Godric feel like a stupid child with just a word or a gesture or a sound?

Gone. He was gone. And that, the noble-boy reminded himself, was why he was here in the first place.

Courage had never been a problem to the blond-haired boy. He has plenty (Salazar called it stupidity but, really, this was cynical little Salazar they were talking about here). Godric took a step forward again. The serpent lunged, but a fierce hiss from Salazar stopped it from actually biting him. It jerked back just short of his boot and snarled again. The intelligent look in its eyes and the way its scales shifted colors told him that this was not a normal snake.

Godric gave his surroundings a quick check. Nobody was around, fortunately. "Dismiss the illusion," he said quietly. It was no longer time to banter. It was an order.

Salazar's eyes flared black, and the snake increased twice its size. It fixed its beady black eyes on Godric's, but he wasn't looking at it. He was looking at Salazar, who had suddenly become the most stubborn foolish prick in history in Godric's opinion. "Oh, believe it, it is no mere 'illusion'," he said coldly.

"Somebody will see," the noble-boy hissed.

"They are at the burning." Salazar's voice suddenly took on a hollow quality that his companion did _not_ like. "Nobody will see."

"Salazar–"

"Hilarious, is it not, that such skeptical adults would listen to the accusation of a child yet not the _defensive_ words of one. Of a complete stranger's, no less, against the framed's own son." The dark-haired one laughed, a hysterical and not entirely sane sound. Godric swallowed hard.

The laughing stopped. Salazar's eyes blazed once more, lit alight with hatred and injustice. "How could they?" he whispered. "Did they know that they killed an innocent woman base on the words of a child not into his sixth year? Or did they not care?" He paused as though to contemplate. "No, they probably did not. So…why should I show them mercy?" And Godric could suddenly _see_ a dark, unnatural smoke rising from the ground at the dark-haired boy's feet, could see the tormented faces in it that resembled every possible demon in existence.

Godric could bear it no longer. He kicked the snake aside with surprising speed and closed the distance between him and Salazar, grabbing the other's shoulders in an iron grip. "Calm yourself," he ordered. "And are you listening to what you are saying? This is not you, Salazar. This is not you _at all_." He did not realize that he was glowing – literally _glowing_ – and that the light was banishing the shadow _or_ that Salazar suddenly looked ready to pass out. Not right then. He was trying to shake his friend back to reality and any and all other goings-on were suddenly unimportant. He was trying to reassure himself, most importantly, that Salazar had not gone mad.

"I – Let go." Weakly, Salazar tried to shove Godric away.

"No. _Listen_." Godric physically shook the boy. "I know what you are feeling right now. Don't snort at me – I do. I really do. But revenge is not the solution. It never was. It never will be. Your mother did this for you, Salazar. She admitted to something she did not commit to protect you. Do not dishonor her sacrifice by doing something foolish. You are _not a fool_." He sounded desperate now, even to his own ears, and somewhere deep in him the Gryffindor's pride reared its ugly head and mouthing off at him about how he should not feel such unbecoming emotions. _Go to hell and burn_, he told it grimly.

The words seemed to strike some chords. Salazar stared at him, stunned. The other held still, not daring to breathe. He was not sure which reaction to anticipate. He has every chance of being bitten by some magical poisonous snake as he has of seeing a guilty expression. Or better or worse. You could never quite tell with this one.

"Not fair," Salazar murmured suddenly, and began to shake. "Not fair at all." And he fell forward.

Godric moved to catch him, then gently lowered him onto the grass. The snake had disappeared, banished by the light radiating from the nobleman's son earlier. He had completely forgotten about it, however, and was more concerned about the too-light weight in his arms. Then, impulsively, Godric drew him close, gripping his shoulders hard enough to hurt.

Somewhere in the town behind them, the church bell resounded. _Ding-DONG_, it called. _Ding-DONG_.

"Not fair," the blond nobleman echoed sorrowfully. "Not fair at all."

* * *

><p><em>Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin in their teenage years. Intended to be a cheerful piece. Obviously took an unseen turn somewhere. And I am well aware that at the time they are alive the people are still speaking in Thee and Thou and capitalizing words in the middle of the paragraph, but for the sake of convenience for both you and I, I opted to keep it modern.<em>

_Yes, they are underaged to use magic outside of school. No, there is no Ministry to pester them about it. There wasn't even a _school_._

_Enjoy,  
>~the Apprentice<em>


End file.
